A year ago tomorrow, I set off on my final drinking holiday ever. In one word, it (I) was carnage.
Of course, I didn’t know it was my last drinking holiday ever but it certainly contributed to my eventual abstinence of the poison ruining my life
The first part of the holiday was with 3 close girlfriends & started, as always, with a large glass of rose at the airport before 9am. Start as you mean to go on eh?! The thought now makes me shudder but at the time it was my own personal tradition & made me feel like the holiday had truly begun.
The hotel I stayed at in Majorca was a firm favourite. I’d been many times before as it’s selling points were that it was for adults only, served gin in a glass the size of a fishbowl & served Prosecco for breakfast. Not that I managed the Prosecco most mornings as was too hideously hungover, but the option was there nonetheless.
On day 2, I got totally into the ‘spirit’ of the holiday, ordering buckets of gin from the bar by the pool. My favourite gin was Hendricks, not a cheap option, and it was going down swimmingly. Too swimmingly in fact. I was proper drunk by late afternoon & handing over Euros like it was Monopoly money. In fact, that afternoon & evening, I handed over nearly all the money I’d exchanged in the U.K, approx 250 Euros, all on gin & a one lowly bowl of pasta, to line my stomach of course.
Unsurprisingly, the bowl of pasta didn’t stand a chance against the amount of gin I was knocking back & I was sick the next day. Proper sick to match my proper drunk. There’s nothing worse in the heat & I was conscious that I was wasting a day of my holiday in hangover hell. To combat the sickness, I drank fat coke & ate carbs & eventually it stopped. But it ruined a precious day, a day I had worked hard for, a day I would never get again.
But did I learn? No, of course I didn’t. A few days later I met my other friends & got way too overexcited. We mixed our drinks starting with homemade Pina Coladas & finished with, you’ve guessed it, gin.
The following day, I was hung over the toilet bowl (see what I did there) in the searing heat. The heat & dehydration were making me feel sicker but I couldn’t keep water down. I remember thinking I can’t keep doing this to myself & I don’t believe I drank gin ever again. My friends’ ingenious solution to making me better was to take me to nearby Magaluf & get me a McDonalds. It almost did the trick until we arrived at our destination beach for the day & I threw up again.
This year, I’ve decided not to return to Majorca, the scene of the crime. My holidays there have always been alcohol fuelled & as part of my transformation, I need to visit other places not associated with my past & do more than lie around a pool all day. I will miss it but I won’t miss the view of the bathroom or the wasted days feeling shocking.
I still think about this holiday, scarred by the hideous hangovers & the monster glasses of gin. Hopefully one day I can visit & change the memories into more happy, sober ones. One day.